When a Wolf Reads
by yamimitsukai
Summary: Scott has grown to love books and finds out that the majority of the people he calls friends still adore them. He decides to start a book club and if he can help his best friend during the process, that's just a bonus.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So this is a gift for the Tumblr Teen Wolf Holiday Gift Exchange that I signed up for, and it is for tumblr user reallyyeahokay. Hope you guys enjoy!  
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**This story has three chapters, I will probably be uploading all of them up around the same time because I'm lazy like that. Or maybe I'll make you guys wait. Mwahahahaha. **

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**Chapter 1:**

"I swear, I'm about to pop a blood vessel here, Scott. Like seriously? You have one bad break up and suddenly you're adopting all of my great study habits and I know I should be flattered, - because hey, who doesn't want to be imitated for his greatness? - but this is getting way out of hand." Stiles Stilinski pushed his lunch tray onto the table next to his best friend, Scott McCall, resident reluctant –but not really- werewolf of Beacon Hills. Scott looked up from the second hand book he had placed in front of his plate, carefully eating his food to not spill anything on the pages.

"What do you mean?"

Stiles gaped at Scott, arms gesturing wildly in the air. "How do you not know already, I've mentioned it every five minutes of every day for the past week! You've been ignoring me every word I say again, haven't you? This is why I still question our supposedly awesome friendship, you know."

"But Stiles," Scott gave his most effective hurt-puppy look. "You know you are the bestest friend anyone could ask for, right? And you make the best cookies."

"Besties still isn't in the dictionary, Scotty, and it won't ever be. I guess all of that PSAT studying still isn't kicking in." Stiles sniffed dramatically, grabbing a handful of the greasy potatoes the cafeteria cooks called fried and stuffing them in his mouth. "What ever happened to my best friend Scott whose actual best friend was spark notes and copious amounts of extra Googling courtesy of Stiles?"

"Sitting next to you reading 'To Kill a Mockingbird' and eating lunch." Scott ate a spoonful of the Mac&Cheese that was piled generously on his tray, turning a page in his book with his free hand.

"I can't believe that you still haven't succumbed to be sarcastic way of life, Scott. I have clearly failed as a best friend, which would explain why you are turning away from me. Alas poor Yorick, my heart is slain!"

"That's from Hamlet. The jester, right?" Scott grinned at Stiles.

"I would be much more impressed if I didn't know that you read that play last week and that you actually meant a random jester in the graveyard and not Hamlet being over dramatic and talking about a jester."

"Whoops." Scott rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Would it help if I said, Hamlet and a Jester are the same thing?"

"Never." Stiles turned his nose up in the opposite direction of Scott, forming a theatrical offended posture. "You have failed to grasp the meaning and each amazing quote by the proper characters. I don't believe we can be friends anymore."

"But Stiles….Who else is going to admire me twenty-four seven?"

"Don't you dare make your eyes go wide for a statement like that, furry boy! And I don't admire you, I degrade you constantly. There is a huge difference that you should learn and memorize."

"You know you love me." Scott grinned. It felt like he and Stiles had not bantered with each other all summer. Which really might not have been that much of an exaggeration. But with all the PSAT studying, the not-pining over Allison, and the extra reading he was cramming, and then that whole fiasco with the Alphas, there hadn't been that much time to hang out. Or at least that's what Scott kept telling himself. "I need to get a new book, you wanna come with me to the old bookstore?"

"I am doubly more offended now because when I wanted to go to that bookstore before I discovered the full wonders of the Internet, you visibly shuddered and muttered bad words."

"We were eleven!"

"Makes absolutely no difference, Scotty." Stiles glanced at his phone and groaned. "I got to get going. I need to work on homework now if I want to be able to sleep tonight."

"You heading to Deaton's after school?" Scott asked.

Stiles nodded. "Yup, while you get to play with all the kittens and take the calls, I get stuck learning about the politics of werewolf court and the proper procedure for being a diplomat between two packs. Freaking boring, man. I want the magic spells, but the vet is holding out on me."

"I'm sure Deaton has his reasons." Scott reasoned, pushing the now empty lunch tray away.

"It would give me less stress lines if the dude actually mentioned those mystical reasons." Stiles grumbled, standing and donning his backpack. "I'll see you later man. Don't do anything stupid without consulting me first."

"You just want me to be on the phone with you all the time."

"Duh, I love the sound of your voice, Scott. Don't tell Allison I said that, she would probably quarter me with a dull spoon."

"Allison and I aren't together anymore." Scott reminded Stiles, reading the last few pages of his book.

"Doesn't mean that she doesn't scare the absolute shit out of me with her glare alone." Stiles turned and walked off, waving good-bye as he disappeared out the cafeteria, most likely heading towards the library. Scott turned back to his book, getting lost in the last few pages of the story.

_'Atticus would be there all night and he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning_.'

"How does it feel, knowing you've finally finished a literary classic, McCall?" Scott nearly jumped out of his seat, too engrossed in the story to notice Lydia Martin come up, even with his wolf senses. Derek would have glared and Stiles would have yelled for his inability to pay attention to his surroundings. But no one had seen Derek or Cora for nearly three weeks now; the of them vanished once everything had settled down after the whole fiasco the alpha group and no one really cared to wonder where Peter had wandered off to.

"Ehm, great. Fantastic, really! You've read this book already, Lydia?" Scott dropped the book in his bag as Lydia tossed her hair over her shoulder and sat down next to him.

"Was that really a question you needed to ask me, Scott? I read that book in sixth grade for fun."

Scott laughed. "I forgot how competitive you and Stiles are for being the smartest people in school every year."

"There is no competition. Stiles puts up a good fight, but I will always beat him in the end."

"That's not what he said to me two days ago."

"Stiles has been known to be wrong quite often. I, on the other hand, should have all my words inscribed on a stone tablet to be a gospel truth." Lydia reached into her book bag, pulling out an older looking book, the cover slightly torn and Scott could see faint erased pencil marks on the top of the pages. "Now, I've noticed for quite some time that you're becoming quite the bookworm. But first, two things. One, you tell no one I'm pointing you in the right direction of what books to sink your sharp nose into. Two, tell anyone, and I'll destroy you. I've got a shattered reputation to fix here." She slid the book across the table and Scott delicately picked it up.

"Emma?" He read the title out loud.

"One of my favorite books by Jane Austen. One of my favorite authors really. So I figured I would recommend her so you can be a bit more cultured and more socially acceptable." Lydia held out her hand, glaring until Scott placed the book in her hand and her fingers curled around the spine. "Now, I am in no way going to let you borrow this. But I did hear from a little birdie that you're heading to the bookstore today, so I better see you with a Jane Austen book tomorrow if you know what's good for you."

"Lydia, why are you threatening me to read books?" Lydia grinned, showing her teeth and somehow that was nearly as terrifying as any alpha werewolf trying to bite his head off.

"Well you see, Scott. Stiles rightfully came to me with a plea for help to assist in shaping your reading material. Some of those literally classics could hardly be classified as classics, so we're taking matters into our own hands. Consider it our own little personal pet project for our residential wolf boy." Scott grinned. Best friends were awesome. And said best friends ex-love interest turned thinking partner. It was frightening how brilliant they could be when placed in a room together with nothing to do but think.

"Thanks, Lydia. You're the best."

"I know." Lydia dropped her book in her purse and pushed the chair away from the table to stand and shake her hair out. "If you see Stiles before last period, tell him he better cough up that explanation. He'll get it."

"Couldn't you just text it to him?" Scott wondered what explanation Lydia was referring to. And what Stiles has been getting up to in his free time that Lydia couldn't piece together.

"I have. The idiot pretends he doesn't get them and starts ranting about other things. I expect him to be at my house at eight sharp." Lydia waved once, turning around and leaving the cafeteria from the only pair of doors. Scott could see Allison waiting outside of the area, giving a small smile and wave, which she reciprocated before the doors closed and she walked off with Lydia.

The rest of the day passed quickly enough, Scott absently taking notes for history and English. As the final bell rang loud and clear, Scott waited for most of the other students to pack up and leave before exiting the classroom himself. It wasn't that he hated crowds, just that he felt safer knowing that there was space to move if something happened. Scott assumed it was some wolf instinct.

"Stiles!" Scott smelled a whiff of his medicated best friend, easily spotting Stile's head among the group of students walking past.

"What's up, buddy?" Stiles waited for Scott to catch up, shifting from foot to foot in the middle of the hallway.

"I was supposed to give you a message from Lydia, something about spilling the beans at her house at eight tonight. You aren't keeping something huge from everyone are you?"

"Scott, please." Stiles snorted. "Would I ever keep something big from my best friend?" Just as Scott opened his mouth to answer, Stiles beat him to the punch. "No, never mind. Don't answer that. Ok, how about this. I have never kept something life threatening from you and the records still clean." Scott stared at Stiles worriedly but knew Stiles well enough to drop the matter, for now. Besides, Lydia would probably have a better chance prying the truth from Stiles. She had a way of terrifying people into gossiping the truth to her face.

"Alright, I believe you, man." Scott had to push down the hurt that started pulsing throughout his chest as Stiles' face lit up. Neither Scott nor Stiles had ever kept any secrets from each other before the whole werewolf mess started. Now they seemed to do it at least once a week.

"Glade to hear it, Scott." Stiles glanced at his phone and hissed. "Shit, I'm getting late. Deaton's going to have me naming all of the great Emissaries in backwards alphabetical order."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"Scott, there are over a thousand of guys calling themselves the great Emissary, you try memorizing at least half of them, loads with completely stupid and unpronounceable names."

"Yikes. Never mind, I take it back." Stiles nodded.

"I thought you would. I'll see you later." Stiles ran off, clamoring into his jeep and roaring away within thirty seconds. His fear of Deaton's boring lectures was actually pretty funny.

Scott walked over to his bike, strapping the helmet onto his head as he sat on the semi-comfy cushion. Getting a motorcycle was easily the best decision he had made this summer; it seemed his-good-for-nothing dad actually had some benefits for working in the FBI. Not that Scott would ever tell that to his face if he ever saw the man again. Scott revved up the motor, walking the bike backwards and roaring out of the school parking lot.

He had about an hour to waste before he needed to head over to Deaton's for his job. The vet would alternate between tending to the animals and coaching Scott on what to do, while mixing some werewolf lore in the middle, and teaching Stiles about the duties of being an Emissary. And though Stiles complained a lot, which wasn't anything really new, Scott could tell he enjoyed the new knowledge he was learning. Occasionally, Lydia would drop by for any scrap of information Deaton could give her about banshees.

Scott turned into a driveway, slowing his bike down until he could park it neatly in one of the stalls in front of his new favorite shop, the Old Bookstore.

He couldn't say why exactly he started enjoying reading all of the old time classical literature. All he knew was that he was studying for the PSAT and came across a passage from one of the books in the reading section and felt a desire to read the entire book. So he texted Stiles the quote, getting his reply barely a minute later along with a footnote text "learn to use Google, numbskull!" from Stiles.

Scott pushed open the door of the store, the aroma of dusty old books filling his nose as well as a old familiar scent of leather, crushed leaves, and hickory. Scott's eyes widened. _Derek was here? _

Scott followed his nose to the back of the shop, the trail leading him to Derek sitting against the wall, his nose buried in his book.

"Derek!" Scott called and got the pleasure of seeing one the few times the once Alpha werewolf was startled out of his thoughts and taken by surprise. Of course the only indication he gave that he was surprised was the sudden glance up from his book, face as stoic as ever apart from a slight raise of his eyebrows.

"I never took you for a reading type, McCall."

"Well I could say the same for you, Derek." Scott grinned at the older werewolf. "Since when do you hang out in bookstores and not Hot Topic for major shopping sprees?"

"Stiles told you to say that, didn't he?" Derek didn't sound annoyed, but one never could completely know with him.

"Maybe." Scott admitted, looking a tad sheepish. "He is the master of comebacks and feels he must teach me his ways one of these days."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me." Derek stood, tucking the book in his hand in his jacket. "I've got places to be. Later Scott." Derek started walking to the front of the store as Scott frowned.

"But none of us have seen you in forever. Are you at least back in town?"

"I don't know yet. I came by for a visit to pick up a few new books. It's not like you guys need me anyways."

Before Scott could protest, Derek had stepped out of the store, getting into a black Toyota and driving away.

"You gonna get a book, boy?" The store manager, an old man by the name of Harold came up to Scott.

"Uh, yeah." What did Lydia threaten him to get? "Um, do you have Emma? By-"

"By Jane Austen, I'm surprised kid. Never thought I'd catch you reading those sorts of books. Then again, I never thought I'd see you step a foot into my store." Scott chuckled nervously.

"Well, people change, sir. Never thought I would come here either, yet here I am."

"That you are, boy." Harold nodded to Scott. "Wait right here, I'll go grab your book. Maybe take a look at all the little trinkets in front for your girlfriend or boyfriend or something."

"I'm not seeing anyone, Mr. Harold, sir." Scott called. He hoped Allison would agree to get back together with him in the future, but….. not now. Not when wounds were still fresh and the tension very visible. His mom had been really helpful drilling that thru his head all summer long.

"Then perhaps your friend Stiles Stilinski. Saw him wandering in here just yesterday. Didn't bother buying anything though." Harold said as he came back, a book in his hand. Scott followed as the bookkeeper walked towards the counter. "Just came inside and talked with the Hale kid a bit; didn't seem very happy with sudden visit."

Scott very nearly whined, hurt that Stiles couldn't even tell him that he knew Derek was back in town, but caught it by squeezing his throat, coughing to ease the pressure. "Stiles never told me Derek was back." He managed to get out after a few seconds. Harold shrugged.

"That kid has been hoarding up on the secrets to everyone. Overheard couple of officers talking about it when they came in a few weeks ago." Harold rang up the book, pressing the buttons on the cash register rapidly. "Total's going to be $7.84, kid." Scott handed him a ten-dollar bill, taking back the change and the book with a small smile.

"Thanks, Mr. Harold."

"No need to thank me, son. I'm just doing my job in this town."

"Spreading gossip and selling books?" Scott asked as he walked towards the exit of the store.

"Precisely." Scott grinned as he turned, taking long strides out into the parking lot where his bike was waiting. He had a job to get to and a best friend to start prying open.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It wasn't very long after the Alpha Pack had left, with Derek and Cora running off a little after that, that Stiles had found himself to be epically restless and bored. Sure, Deaton had talked to him about starting training for being an Emissary to the pack, whatever pack it is that Beacon Hills had anyways, and Scott was starting to spend just a tiny bit more time with him than earlier now that Isaac and Allison were suddenly buddy-buddy and so was Lydia, in all her greatness although Stiles no longer saw her as the love of his life. Which looking back on, was slightly creepy and pretty immature, but no one ever pegged Stiles for being mature in first place.

So four days, nineteen hours, and thirty-two minutes plus two Monster energy drinks later found Stiles on the floor of his room, seven different books open in front of him with his laptop sitting balanced on his lap typing up notes from the books on the Supernatural Deaton had recommended with one hand and his other hand texting Derek as fast as one finger could.

It took seven hours and eighteen minutes, not that Stiles was counting, for Derek to respond. By now it was nearly six in the morning and Stiles' hands were trembling lightly from chugging another two energy drinks to stay awake as he dragged his finger across the screen of his phone to read the message.

[Derek]: why are you texting me

[Stiles]: Wow, way to use punctuation and grammar skills there, big boy. And here I thought you would have been a grammar Nazi.

[Derek]: Stiles, it is 5:48 AM who cares about grammar now

[Derek] I didn't wake you up did I

[Stiles]: Nah, haven't slept. Gotta be up in a few minutes for school anyways.

[Derek]: That's not healthy

[Derek]: Are you ok?

[Stiles]: Woah, question mark, you are starting to wake up, it seems!

[Derek]: Stiles

[Stiles]: How is it you still sound so threatening via little words on a tiny screen? It makes no sense to me.

[Derek]: That's most likely because you recognize the fact that you are an idiot

[Stiles]: Rude. I am in all AP classes, thank you very much.

[Derek]: You know exactly what I mean.

[Stiles]: Yes, as a matter of fact, I do, wolf boy. I would like to counterpoint that argument with one of I'm going to be the new Emissary, so you better be nice to me.

[Derek]: One, no. Two, why are you becoming the Emissary? And three, I'm not in your pack, so really you've got nothing.

[Stiles]: Holy shit, it's too early in the morning to do a therapy session, try again in a few hours. Preferably in literature, so I know I'll stay awake.

[Derek]: Maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to be a moron and stay up all night.

[Stiles]: Ahahaha, very funny dude.

[Stiles]: But hey, you are coming to Beacon Hills aren't you?

[Derek]: I don't know

[Stiles]: It took nearly ten minutes to write I don't know? Seriously?

[Derek]: Well I don't. Haven't really had the best home coming experience, don't you think?

[Stiles]: Is that sarcasm I hear? It is! My lovely language, you are speaking it!

[Derek]: Shut up

[Stiles]: I'm not even saying anything. I'm typing, dumbass.

[Derek]: Go get some sleep

[Stiles]: Too late now

Derek hadn't responded after that last text, and Stiles spent the rest of the day continuously checking his phone. He did doze off a bit during English, guess the whole teaching of classics was rather dull when it wasn't a megalomaniac homicidal ex emissary turned supernatural creature of darkness lecturing. What did that say about his mentality? Probably nothing, but who knows nowadays. Psychologists analyzed _everything_.

"Stiles!" Stiles turned to see Lydia gracefully striding over to his spot in the hallway as he waited for Scott to show up.

"What's up, Lyds?" Eons ago he would have killed to call Lydia that, just in a more romantic setting. But, he rather enjoyed what they had developed into. Definitely helped with a lot of the less than legal activities although having his dad be the Sheriff did help a bit with that as well.

"I need you to come over to my place. Deaton isn't proving to be a reliable source when it comes to what I need to know." Lydia leaned against the wall, her strawberry blonde hair, falling over her shoulders and the mark that the Durach left as it tried to strangle her starting to fade away.

"But I don't know much about bansh—mphhhaa" Lydia's hand slapped over his mouth as she hissed.

"Keep quiet, bozo! You think I want everyone to know?" Stiles shook his head, waiting for the fiery not-actually-a-redhead to let go of his face. It involved quite a bit of rolling his eyes down and a few more threats from Lydia before his mouth was free.

"Ouch, you've got claws of a harpy, Lydia. Are you trying to claw my face off?" Stiles patted his cheeks, checking for any gorges in his flesh. Well, not like it could happen, but it could happen. Banshees could have really long and sharp nails for all he knew, and they probably sliced open their victims all the time with those things.

"Better to slice into itty bitty pieces, geez Stiles."

"Please no. I like all my epidermis over my muscles and bones and nothing missing." Lydia rolled her eyes.

"Har har, I'm wheezing of laughter." She said dryly. "Now, I've got to get to my club meeting. I'll come meet you after."

"I'm stopping at Deaton's for a bit. Got to exchange books and so forth."

"Then come stop by my house when you're done, stupid." Lydia pranced off, after rolling her eyes one last time at Stiles.

"Rude, geez." Stiles muttered as Scott ran up.

"Hey, Stiles!"

"You're late, Scott. Geez, you would think to look at a clock now and then."

"Sorry, sorry! I was just helping Isaac out, you don't mind if he comes along do you?" Fun. Having Isaac tagging along meant chatting time with Scott was pretty much over. Oh well. Its not like he had much to say anyways.

"Sure, that's fine. But only if we leave now." On cue, Isaac walked from around the corner, grinning sheepishly. Isaac was probably waiting right behind the wall and listening in for the best time to come sauntering in. And Stiles couldn't even complain about it –well he could if he wanted to and did numerous times – since he would abuse his super hearing abilities just like that.

The three of them piled into his jeep, Scott having left his bike at home this morning, and rode in silence, listening to the tunes emitting from the radio. It was s short ride to the vet's office and the two werewolves plus one human soon found themselves already stepping into the hallway of the animal care center, Scott immediately going in to check on the animals with Isaac following like a lost puppy and Stiles heading into Deaton's office-office, where a new stack of books was sitting on sheets of paper and envelopes.

"Cutting it close there, Stiles. You boys were nearly late." Deaton stepped into the office and Stiles moved to the side to give him room to walk around.

"I put all blame on Scott and Isaac; apparently they were having one of their numerous heart to hearts."

"I see." Deaton had that look, the one that screamed 'I know something that you don't and I'll never tell!' Stiles had given up on ever getting the man to spill things he had no desire to.

"Well, I have some news Stiles. Most of the materials have finally come in, so I can start your training either tomorrow or day after. Do you think you're ready?"

"You gave me those tomes to look at for 'light reading'" the words light reading had major air quotes being used, "and you expect me to back out now?"

"Not at all." Deaton grinned. "Just double checking you were firm in your decision."

"Well that seemed stupid."

"Indeed, I suppose it must be."

Deaton and Stiles fell silent for a few minutes, Stiles having grabbed one of the books from the desk to start flipping through and Deaton looking at a print out of something.

"Hey Deaton, do you have anything on banshees?" Stiles finally broke the silence, placing a ribbon as a bookmark in the book he had opened.

"As a matter of fact yes." Deaton stood, and turned to a box placed in the corner of the room onto of an old printer. "One of my contacts up in Ireland finally managed to send me his notes and the old urban legends of banshees in Ireland. It's not much, but it could help." Deaton dug through the box for a bit, pulling out all sorts of things Stiles had no desire to learn about just yet before turning around with a thin book in his hands.

"Don't loose this now, I'll have to send it back soon enough." Deaton said as he handed the book to Stiles.

"Thanks, buddy." Stiles grabbed the book, already scanning the title for a hint that this book would be helpful.

"I don't believe I am your buddy, Stiles." Despite his words, Deaton looked like he was fighting a smile on his face. Maybe. It was hard to tell with the man, but Stiles told himself that that was exactly what the vet was doing. "Don't forget, tomorrow we'll most likely start. So keep your schedule clear after school."

"Aye, aye Captain sir!" Stiles threw up a mock salute, the book tucked securely within the crook of his arm and chest.

"Right, I'll see you tomorrow." Stiles waved to Scott on his way out, his werewolf bestie putting food in the rodent cages. He drove over to Lydia's house, where she was just pulling in her driveway as he parked his car on the side of the road. They spent the next few hours nearly pulling the hairs from their head out as the owner of the book had terrible handwriting and even worse concise story telling abilities. In the end, they learned only a few new things and Stiles left the house as frustrated as Lydia.

[Stiles]: What can you tell me about banshees?

[Derek]: Can foresee a tragic death, screams really loud, and apparently is a fashion expert. Why?

[Stiles]: Anything actually substantial?

[Stiles]: It's for Lydia. And for me too I guess. How is there nearly no information on the Internet about them besides the screaming thing?

[Derek]: You should ask Peter. He wants to become the new Care of Magical Creatures Researcher and Professor in Beacon Hills.

[Stiles]: One, uh uh. Not talking to that creep ever. Ever ever if possible. Two, holy shit you made a joke. Am I finally growing on you?

[Derek]: Hardly. It's something that developed for the safety of my own sanity.

[Stiles]: That must be some fragile mentality you got there.

[Derek]: Of course.

[Derek]: I'm going to sleep now. You better be doing the same, Stiles.

[Stiles]: Hey, you aren't my mum to tell me when bedtime is!

[Derek]: It is when you don't ever go to sleep.

[Stiles]: Hey I sleep! Just on a different sleep schedule than everyone else.

[Derek]: Is it called hold off sleep as long as possible to be as unhealthy as possible?

[Stiles]: I can't even deny it.

[Derek]: Sleep.

[Stiles]: Yes mum.

[Derek]: I mean it. I will call your dad if I have to. He gave me a business card.

[Stiles]: Oi, no need to go that far, I'm going, I'm going!

[Derek]: Good.

The next few weeks passed much of the same way. Stiles would either wake up or drink an extra two cups of coffee to stay awake, go to school, go to Deaton's, research a bit with Lydia and hang out with Scott in the hallway of the school between classes. Stiles still texted Derek, and Derek started responding with less time between Stiles first text of the day and his. It certainly felt like they never actually stopped texting, apart from the few hours when they slept.

So it was quite a shock to Stiles when he walked into the bookstore on a random day to get a book that the library didn't have for his history paper and found Derek peering at a shelf, nose scrunched up as he tried to decide on a book to pick out. Stiles stared, halfway into the store with a leg still stuck outside for a good twenty seconds. Harold, the owner of the store – and on Sheriff Stilinski's Suspects For Giving Stiles Candy list – simply glanced once at Stiles as he walked in and continued reading the book in his hand.

Stiles pulled out his phone, scrolling through past messages that might have said anything, anything at all, of Derek coming back into town, even if it was just for a visit.

[Stiles]: So, sourwolf. Ever going to mention that you like nosing through books in old bookstores of your hometown?

Stiles watched as Derek reached into his pocket to fish out his phone, his expression never changing but turning his head over to the entrance of the store where Stiles waved, a tight smile on his smile.

"What are you doing here, Stiles?" Was the first thing Derek asked when Stiles walked up.

"What, no hello? No, how are you doing or any of those pleasant greetings? Or how about an explanation of why you're in town but you didn't tell me?" Stiles' voice grew more heated after every word and he ignored any hisses that Harold threw in his direction. The old store owner always did seem like the librarian type, complete with utter disgust of loud noises.

"I was only staying to get a book or two. Not longer than a few hours. So I saw no need." Derek was as stony faced as ever, someone could probably chisel his face into a statue and no one would notice a difference apart from how emotional those hazel eyes were.

"What, you didn't think that maybe I would like to see you for ten minutes after a few weeks of messaging everyday?" Maybe yelling at the werewolf who has essentially been your only contact apart from Deaton, who didn't count, Scott with passing simply conversations in the hallways of schools, and occasionally Lydia when she wasn't too busy with other people.

Derek shrugged and didn't say a word, not looking at Stiles. Maybe it was immature of him; alright it was definitely immature of him, but no one ever claimed Stiles was even close to being emotionally mature. Stiles turned around and walked out, leaving Derek standing alone by the bookshelf, giving a curt nod to Harold as he stormed out of the store and into his jeep. He didn't even know why he was so angry; it wasn't like he could expect anything less from Derek. The guy always enjoyed being all secretive and mysterious with his multiple leather jackets and broody personality. It wasn't like Derek actually liked anybody, what had Stiles been thinking? That he could possibly rely on Derek? All the text messages were probably replied to because of obligation, Stiles certainly hadn't been in his right state of mind when he first texted Derek, with the whole sleep deprivation and energy drink over consumption spiel.

Stiles gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as he squeezed as hard as he could. Lucky for him, his dad was still at the station when he pulled onto the driveway of his house, staying seated in the jeep and taking deep breaths. This never being told things wasn't anything new. Deaton was a master in it, even Scott left him hanging once or twice. So why should he feel so hurt and panic stricken because a certain sourwolf, who he really wasn't friends with, simply followed the norm of telling Stiles nothing of importance that could help save his life from time to time, thank you very much.

Stiles opened the door of the jeep, grabbing his backpack and jumping down to the pavement. Stiles had far too much to research to worry about being texting buddies with every person who had sharp teeth, claws, and far too much facial hair. For hell's sake, just trying to translate any of the Irish texts into notes he could understand and remember was a herculean task. Or Old English for that matter. Linguistics was not something that he ever wanted to do; only know Stiles has even more of a reason to avoid it like the plague. Learning about proper customs and etiquette is boring enough, but in a different language? There were some days Stiles considered going back in time to reconsider Peter's offer.

Stiles pushed all thoughts about Derek out of his mind. As he passed the kitchen, he grabbed a bag of chips and a bottle of Monster. That history project did need to get done tonight, and it wasn't like he really needed sleep anyhow. The War of Roses demanded his attention.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:**** And this is the final chapter! I hope you guys enjoyed the rather short ride! Just as a heads up, it was never supposed to drag on for 11,000 words. Everything just sort of escaped me and nothing would stop the flow. Blarghhhhh **

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

Derek had been texting him. The first few hours, Stiles ignored his messages, letting the phone vibrate without checking it. It would have been longer if a confused papa Stilinski had not opened his bedroom door to let a very, very irate Lydia Martin in.

"You, mister, have a lot of explaining to do." Her hair fell into her face and Lydia tossed her head to move it away from her eyes. "Not only do I take the time to message you once, I even tried calling and I got nothing. Nothing, Stiles!"

Stiles winced, lifting his head up from the array of books that lined his table. "Sorry, Lydia. I've been ignoring my phone the whole day. Trying to get some things done without getting distracted."

"Uh huh," Lydia shot a glare at Stiles. "Is that also why you've been ignoring six, no wait now seven, text messages from one loveable Sourwolf?" Stiles sat up and turned quickly in his chair, feeling his spine crack as he whipped around to see Lydia pressing the screen in an attempt to guess the password.

"Hey, come on now Lydia! Don't I get any bit of privacy?" Stiles lunged toward the bed, trying to grab his phone that he had carelessly tossed on his pillow hours ago.

"You lost all privacy privileges when you decided to ignore me, Stilinski. Besides, I think you get enough privacy; hardly anyone knows what goes on inside that little head of yours." Lydia tossed the phone over her shoulder, so it landed back on the covers of his bed and Stiles reached around her to grab it, holding it protectively to his chest.

"Not true!" Stiles protested, hiding the phone in his pocket.

"Yeah?" Lydia gave him The Look. How Stiles hated The Look, it was like a mixture of the dude from Saw and Harley Quinn all wrapped in one and it terrified him that his once crush could simply look ready to slice people up with chainsaws before exploding them with bazookas if they pissed her off. "Then who is this sourwolf fellow who's apparently so very sorry for this afternoon?"

Stiles squawked and fumbled for his phone, quickly typing in his password and checking his messages. Derek had said sorry? Derek? Derek Hale? Saying sorry? If Stiles wasn't before, he certainly was bamboozled now.

[Stiles]: Who are you and what have you done with Derek? Derek Hale never apologizes. Nor does he have any manners.

"Oh, go right ahead. Continue texting this mysterious sourwolf character while I'm patiently sitting on your bed." Lydia said scathingly. "And while we're at it, how about you tell me how Derek is doing, seeing that you love texting him so much?"

"Lydia…." Stiles trailed off. How could he explain it? Nothing ever made coherent sense in his head.

Lydia sighed exasperatedly. "Look, Stiles. People are worried about you. You've been talking considerably less, you are definitely getting a lot less sleep than before, seeing that you have bags underneath your eyes and Scott claims he can hear your heart beat thumping far too fast from all those energy drinks he can smell on your breath. And you don't tell us anything of what's going on. I had to listen to Allison commenting about it today, and its painfully obvious you two don't get along that much."

Stiles winced. He never meant for people to start _worrying_ over him. And if Allison thought she needed to comment about it to Lydia, yikes. It wasn't like he had been avoiding looking at himself in the mirror in the mornings or anything; he just never noticed.

"Um."

"Look." Lydia stood, fixing her skirt for some imaginary creases only she could see. "I'll leave for now, and you can have your little heart to heart with Derek tonight."

"Heart to heart, there's no—" Stiles sputtered.

"Shut up Stiles, I wasn't done!" Lydia snapped. "And yes, your heart to heart. I've broken up enough times with Jackson to know this stage perfectly well. Do not even think of arguing with me, or so help me, I will force you to go shopping with me and Allison to be our bag boy. And tomorrow, you'll be coming by my house to tell me everything."

Incoherent noises escaped from Stiles, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Bu-But I don't have anything to tell you."

"Don't even start Stiles. I'll inform you tomorrow at school what time to come over. Don't you even dare of thinking of canceling or being late because I will hunt you down. I have stiletto heels, and I am not going to hesitate when it comes to throwing them at you." Lydia twirled around and bounded out of the room, leaving the stale smell of her perfume lingering in Stiles' room.

Stiles groaned, sitting down on the bed and putting his head in his hands.

"Lady problems?" Sheriff Stilinski stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his head. "That was Lydia Martin correct? The girl you have a crush on?"

"Had a crush on, dad. Past tense, done and over, caput. Besides, I think it might be a bit too overwhelming to date a banshee."

"Stiles….." his dad had narrowed his eyes and Stiles groaned again. While it was nice he could mention the supernatural underneath his breath without worrying about the sheriff piecing together the many murder cases that landed since everything started happening and then run off to get himself killed, it was annoying that he refused to talk about it.

"Sorry, sorry. But it's not like I'm lying, She's actually a banshee."

"Even if she is, I don't want to know about it unless it's a life or death situation. Give me some time to process all of this, I've asked you this already."

"It's been weeks, dad!" Stiles wanted to talk with his dad, and without all of the lies that seemed to be the only thing he could say to him in the past few months.

"Stiles!" As with nearly every conversation in the past year, Papa Stilinski's voice rose. Stiles stilled, biting the inside of his lower lip. "This whole supernatural thing, it takes time to get used to, alright. I can't just accept that there are people who can suddenly change teeth length at the drop of a hat."

"Yeah, the power of youth and imagination, right?" Stiles forced a smile, which the Sheriff returned. He walked to Stiles and wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

"You're a good kid Stiles. Just give an old coot like me some more time, alright?" Stiles gripped the back of his dad's jacket and nodded, not trusting himself to say anything.

The Sheriff pulled away, patting Stiles' back with one hand. Stiles let his hand fall onto his lap. "Right, I'm off to work. Be good, don't do anything stupid, and please call me if you're going to leave the house."

"Yeah, of course. Have fun at work. Don't eat anything with too much fat on it."

"As strict as ever, aren't you?"

"You know it. I'll even call your deputy if I have to. You know I will." Stiles waved his phone around. "I have her number, I have it memorized in fact."

"Alright I get it! No unhealthy food at work." His dad walked out of the door. "Later, kid."

"Bye, dad." Stiles yelled. Once he heard the car outside in the driveway start up, Stiles opened his phone. Three brand new messages, all from Derek.

[Derek]: Of course I have manners. Just because I don't say bless you after every sneeze, doesn't mean I don't know when I need to apologize.

[Derek]: Stiles, you there?

[Derek]: Stiles?

[Stiles]: Sorry, Fake Derek. I had guests in my room.

[Derek]: Are you ever going to let up on this fake me nonsense anytime soon?

[Stiles]: Nope!

[Derek]: Look, for what its worth, I am sorry.

[Stiles]: OMG, please quit with the apologizing. It's weird.

[Stiles]: Look, I'm messed up, it's my fault whatever, just please drop it.

[Derek]: But it wasn't your fault!

[Stiles]: Please Derek. Look, I'm even saying please! Let's talk about something else. Like, what book did you end up getting?

[Derek]: Fine, I'll play along for now. And I didn't get a book. I'll have to go back sometime this week.

[Stiles]: Where are you staying? Back at that old dump?

[Derek]: Nah, I managed to swipe Peter's key for his apartment here.

Time passed as Stiles spent his evening texting with Derek and attempting to complete a final edit on his history paper. It was around midnight when Derek claimed sleepiness and threatened Stiles to get some rest. Despite his promise that he would, Stiles found himself unable to sleep, tossing and turning until four before his eyes dropped closed.

The next afternoon, Stiles was yawning as he turned page after page of a book translated from Ancient Italian into English about the plants and fruit found on the British Isles after the Roman conquest sometime around 50AD. He was studying the differences between the poisonous flora and non-lethal plants. Stiles complained that he would most likely never even step foot on the Isles, so what did it matter? Deaton just smiled and something cryptic about "You never know your future Stiles. Besides, Beacon Hills is quite a magnet for Celtic magic." Of course it would be some magic thing that had very little information surrounding it. What else could he expect?

The bell for the front door opening rang and Stiles glanced at his watch. It was most likely Scott coming in for his shift. He heard Scott and Deaton converse outside, tuning them out to write down notes about the_ Prunus laurocerasus_, some highly poisonous shrub with cyanide poisoning leaves. Well, if any supernatural creature decided to stop by his house for a bit of iced tea, Stiles could be prepared to add a bit of garnish to their drinks.

The door to his little classroom opened, and Scott slipped through the door, sitting across from Stiles at his personal table that had books spread out.

"Scott? What are you doing in here? Shouldn't you be feeding kittens and rabbits and all the other little critters?"

"Eh," Scott stretched his neck. "Deaton let me come back here so we could talk."

"Talk?" Stiles echoed. "About what?" Scott fixed him with a look, disappointment etched on his face.

"Stiles, are you really alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Stiles shrugged. "What brings this up all of a sudden?"

"Well, you know I stopped at the bookstore today. And I ran into Derek. And then Harold told me that you went to the store yesterday as well and saw Derek there." Scott paused for a bit, biting his lip. Stiles could almost see the thoughts swirling through Scott's head.

"And you want to know why I didn't call and tell you." Stiles interrupted quietly. Scott nodded.

"And Lydia isn't very happy being kept in the dark about things. And we're both worried that you're hiding more things from us. Stiles, we're your friends. We want to help you!" Scott's face was so earnest that Stiles couldn't help but giggle a bit. No, not giggle. Chuckle. Who in the hell giggled these days?

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, its just. Your expression, Scott. You look like a kicked puppy. Or more accurately a kicked wolf cub."

"I thought I was supposed to be this ferocious beast." Scott pouted. "Anyways, Stiles stop distracting me!" Scott punched Stiles lightly in the shoulder, which still left the human best friend wincing and rubbing his shoulder. "You can't keep hiding things from us, buddy. Then we get worried, and Lydia worried is a very frightening thing to witness."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." Perhaps it was fitting that Lydia was a banshee, as much as Stiles loved the girl (as a friend now), he would be one of the first people to confess that Lydia terrified him some days.

"It was the worst. Please don't give her a reason to do it ever again." Scott pleaded. "And why couldn't you have mentioned that Derek was back in town? Its not really something that needs to be a secret is it?"

"Er," What could Stiles say in this situation? Sorry I didn't mention that part of your werewolf posse came back for a surprise visit just to get a book or two without mentioning it to anyone? "I didn't actually know. It was a complete accident that I ran into him. He never told me he was coming back into town."

"You've been in contact with him?" Scott's eyes were wide. "He actually responded _back_?"

"No, Scott. I just sent hundreds of text messages to a guy who never responded because he doesn't know how to properly operate a phone." Stiles rolled his eyes. "Plus, I actually respond back when certain people try to get in touch with me, _Scott_."

Scott winced. "I said I was sorry, didn't I? And I am, its just…..things got to be really hectic."

"Yes, I know, Scott." Stiles sighed.

"Good, you're still my best friend dude. I can't have you being anywhere else."

"I don't know if that was really sweet or really really creepy."

"How was it creepy?" Sometimes Stiles wondered how he managed to stay relatively sane with Scott for a best friend. Guy was the sweetest bro around, but his level of cluelessness was nearly damaging.

"So, um. What do you guys talk about?" Scott dropped in the seat across from Stiles. Stiles blinked a few times.

"What you mean Derek and I?" At Scott's nod, Stiles shrugged. "This and that, mostly. It started when I had one of those sleepless nights. He sorta helped it? A bit? I think. And now we just chat all the time. Usually anyways. But he didn't tell me about coming into town yesterday, furry bastard."

"Was it really that bad, if he didn't?" Scott asked.

"Yes!" Stiles exclaimed. "Well, no. But yes!" How could he put this in words? Why were words so difficult? "Look, you and Derek, you've got your teeth, nails fur whole thingymabob, I don't have any of that. Ok, and we live in a town, which is a freaking beacon for the supernatural. And how, nobody ever caught on to the fact that the name of this lovely town is basically a light house for people who want to kill everyone, I will never know!" Stiles dropped his head on the table, letting the cool metal act as his new pillow.

"I'm so sorry." Scott mumbled and Stiles felt a thud. He lifted his head up so his chin was resting against the table to see Scott thumping his head against the table. Stiles might have tried to stop Scott from causing himself any more brain damage, except that his canine hard skull would most likely protect him from a few hard hits. Scott stopped after nearly denting the table.

"Hey, I was enjoying the show, Scott! Watching you get bruises on your skull actually cheers me up."

"I'm sorry, Stiles." Scott sounded near to tears and Stiles started panicking.

"Hey, no need for any more apologies, alright? You've apologized, everything's cool now. Scott? Scott?" The werewolf jumped from his seat and wrapped his arms around Stiles who froze. "Scott, why are you clinging to me?"

Scott squeezed tighter. "Because I'm an idiot. I thought I could fix everything all on my own and you always get dragged into the middle of all my fights and you're defenseless against these monsters and I could have lost you so many times because I just didn't answer my freaking phone when you called. Because other things were more important. Because I always assume that you're going to be alright, and you never are!"

Stiles patted Scott on the back. "Hey, come on now. You forget, I drive myself to half of those places where trouble's at. I go looking for it, for some odd reason. And look, I'm still alive and kicking. I got my own set of claws, grrrr." Scott chuckled softly, Stiles joining in a second later.

"Let go now, bro. I got work to cram in my brain and you got little animals calling your name for food." It took several long moments for Scott to release his grip.

"I'm coming with you to Lydia's."

"What?"

"I'm coming with you to Lydia's." Scott repeated, grinning at Stiles. How the hell was he able to change his expressions so quickly? In all the years Stiles had known Scott, this was the one mystery he had never been able to solve about Scott McCall.

"Er, why?"

"Is it wrong of me to want to hang out with my best friend?"

Stiles eyed Scott, eyes narrowing. "Are you trying to plan something, Scott?

"No." Scott shook his head rapidly. "Nothing at all. I'll give Lydia a call to let her know. Don't leave without me, we can head over together."

"For some odd reason, I think you're lying but I'll let it slide this one time."

"Thank you very much, Lord Stiles." Scott's grin grew. "I'll see you in a few hours." He nearly ran out of the room. Stiles stared at the now closed door for what seemed like forever before turning back to his books. Might as well finish this up as soon as possible. How some people found plants exhilarating, Stiles would never know. They hardly did anything apart from their basic biological functions.

Approximately four hours and thirty seven minutes later – alright, so maybe it was more exactly than any approximation – Stiles found himself standing inside Lydia's room with Scott next to him.

"You guys are late." Lydia was sitting at her desk, legs crossed and expertly eyeing her nails. Judging from the open nail polish bottles lining up along the edge of the mirror, Stiles could accurately assume that Lydia was armed with nitrocellulose. Scary thought especially if there were any matches nearby.

"Sorry, Lydia. Deaton needed an extra pair of hands for tranquilizing a German Sheppard. The poor thing had his leg bone broken and sticking."

Stiles shuddered. "That was terrible, it was disgusting, and I never want to do anything like that again." The poor dog was in so much agony, he was even ignoring Scott's attempts to calm him down and take some of the pain away.

"And this is why I want to major in Math, not in medicine." Lydia turned to her table and started screwing on all the nail polish bottle caps back on. "Far less messy."

"I completely agree with you, Lyds." Stiles slid down the wall, folding his legs underneath him. "I think I'll just stick to whatever it is I'm doing with Deaton. Mythology and dead languages and Wiccan rituals. Think I could join some Wiccan initiation service or something?"

"This is Beacon Hills." Lydia shrugged. "As of a few months ago, I wouldn't rule anything out."

"Hang on, I'll be right back!" Scott, rushed out of the room, leaving Stiles gaping in confusion and Lydia smirking after him.

"Back? Oi, Scott! Where are you going?!" Stiles shouted. He would have chased after him, but Scott was a werewolf, aka much faster, and Stiles was far too comfortable sitting against the wall to move.

"Don't worry so much, Stiles. He'll be back." Stiles glanced at the door and then to Lydia and back again.

"You know something."

"I know a lot of things." Lydia was full on grinning.

"You two are setting something up, aren't you?" Stiles accused.

"Wow, nothing gets past you, does it, Einstein?"

"Lydia!"

"Sorry, cutie. Now you get to taste what its like when you don't tell us things. Only Scott and I are being nice and simply making you wait five minutes instead of five months with teeth pulling to get a scrap of what goes on that head of yours." Stiles pouted.

"That's not true." He muttered.

"It totally is and you know it."

Stiles really couldn't argue with what was some basis in the truth, not without condemning himself further anyways. The two fell silent, Lydia scrutinizing her nails for any flaws and Stiles mentally going over his notes for what he had studied for the past six hours. No sense in forgetting it immediately after reading unless he felt like opening all of those books again.

It only took a few minutes for two pairs of footsteps to be heard moving up the stairs, Stiles breaking out of his study-revising daze to watch Scott re-enter the room with a fuming Derek Hale right behind him.

"Did you get lost trying to find my house?" Lydia didn't move from her seat.

"Funnily enough, yes. Especially when you let Scott give out directions. I really don't think fancy house in the middle of that fancy street a few streets down from Stiles' house counts as accurate direction giving." Derek glared at Scott, who grinned sheepishly.

"I told you to call Lydia, didn't I? And I even said that I didn't actually know her address."

"Well maybe that would have worked if you had given me her number!"

"I do have Cora's number. It's how we threatened you to show up for this little meeting." Lydia said matter-of-factly.

"Meeting? What meeting?" Stiles finally broke out of his stupor of seeing Derek. "You guys never mentioned a meeting."

"Shut up, Stiles." Lydia rolled her eyes. "Now everyone sit down and we can begin." Lydia cleared her throat.

"As we all know from Deaton, we will probably be seeing quite a lot of new dead bodies soon. And however morbid that it sounds, we can't just run away from it."

"And our second problem," Scott interrupted. "Is that we don't have a really good communication thing going on. And if we're getting more and more enemies who want to kill us all, well, I think it might be a bit easier on everyone if they all knew what was up."

Derek sighed. "So what is it you want to do? Start having scheduled meetings every Thursday night? Hate to break it to you, but its not going to be something like a new bad guy every week. Plus, I don't even live here anymore."

"You already come back for book shopping when you could just as easily go to a Barnes and Nobles or something." Lydia pointed out.

"I came by _once_."

"I've already talked about it with Cora. She's packing all of your things and driving down tomorrow to move into Peter's apartment."

"Peter isn't going to like it."

"Your uncle Peter doesn't have a choice." Lydia scowled. "As…. Influential as he is, he owed me a favor and I cashed in. Congratulations, you are once again a resident of Beacon Hills."

Derek grumbled but didn't say anything. Scott took the floor again.

"As for the meeting idea, well I have a two in one deal." Here Stiles had to butt in.

"A two in one deal? Scott, what the hell are you talking about?" Talking a bit more so everyone was on the same page, yes Stiles could get behind. He even could understand Derek's point of if there's nothing going on, why bother meeting up side of the argument. But Scott was trying to force everyone into some sort of group therapy, Stiles was out. Therapy was not his friend, not now, not ever.

"A book club!" Scott exclaimed. Even Lydia was staring at him now.

"A what?"

"A book club." Scott repeated. "See, I can't just say I have meetings to go to at random times, not with my dad back in town and him suspicious of everything that moves. Plus your parents don't know what's going on either., Lydia. And like Derek said, we need something to talk about for when we have a week where no one wants to destroy us or the surrounding area. So, we have a book club!"

"You just want a book club so we can explain the more complicated plots of the classic books to you." As ideas went, Stiles didn't think it was a _terrible_ one. "What even brought this up in the first place?"

"Well, you remember our talk at Deaton's this afternoon?"

"Scott, it happened barely five hours ago, my memory isn't that bad just yet."

"Shush, I'm explaining things! Anyways, as soon as we were done, I called Lydia and explained things to her. And then she came up with the idea to gather together and force you guys to agree."

"Because I am utterly sick of finding dead bodies and not knowing what is going on." Lydia cut in. "Its aggravating."

"But then, why are you dragging me into this?" Derek sounded exasperated.

"Because I have made the executive decision, and Scott supports me, that you and Stiles need to freaking talk more or something until you guys decide to hook up or break up or something, because this tension that you have going on between the two of you is driving me crazy."

"What?!" Stiles was glad to know Derek was just as shocked as he was.

"Lydia, you got it all wrong. Why in the world would you say that? It's not- I mean, it's definitely not-"

"Stiles, I am the Mistress of Reading Boys, what do you think I spent the last two years doing? Do not question me on this. Now, you two will go figure things out, and the next time I talk to either of you, it better be all settled. Or god help me I will be screaming until your ears bleed." Lydia huffed, ushering everyone out of the room. "Now, I've got things I need to work on. All of you, out of my bed room!"

"But I thought you wanted to talk?" Stiles let himself be pushed out into the hallway, Lydia now standing in her doorway with her arms crossed.

"We did talk. I know your story thanks to Scott," Stiles let out an offended gasp. "Yes, he's a much easier nut to crack than you. Two, I gave you my advice, which you are going to take because I'm not the only one saying it. And three, get some sleep, will you?"

"Lydia, I don't have any special feelings for Derek! We just talk!"

"That's how it always starts. And then you start talking more and more and then one thing leads to another and bam, I'm right." Lydia smirked. "Look, when it comes to your own emotions, you are not the smartest. That is why I, as your friend and emotional mentor, am telling you."

"Are you equating me to Ron Weasley? Lydia, how could you? I've told you, I don't want to be the comic relief side kick! I'd rather be Neville and chop off the head of a snakey Horcrux!"

"Stiles," Lydia shook her head exasperatedly. "I don't care. Now go after your werewolves before I have to get violent."

Stiles listened. He dashed down the stairs and outside the house only to see Scott and Derek quietly chatting; or more accurately Scott chatting and Derek grunting, by elder werewolf's car. They both looked up as Stiles took a step closer, most likely due to their super hearing or whatever it was called. Totally unfair that wolves got all the superior senses. Well, normal wolves were sort of blind, weren't they? Stiles could have sworn he read that in a book once. He really needed to ask either Scott or Derek this question. Maybe even Isaac would be up for some questions.

"Stiles!" Scott's face lit up as Stiles' came up to the pair. "We were just talking about you."

"Speak of the devil and devil appears sort of thing?"

"But you aren't a devil?"

"Never mind. What were you chatting about with me not here?"

"Scott." Stiles never knew that someone could imply homicide simply by stating a name, but Derek managed to do it. "Was just telling me all the reasons why he thinks I need to spend every waking moment with you."

"I never said that!" Scott protested. "All I said was that you guys smell happier when you're with each other."

"Scott, what the hell have you been drinking?"

"That is the single most stupidest thing I have ever heard you say, McCall!"

Stiles and Derek both shouted.

"Look," Scott sighed. "At least just hang out together more? Lydia was right when she said there's some sort of tension between you two. And it's not a bad kind. Besides, what harm could it do? You guys already allegedly talk all the time. Might as well be face to face."

As Derek and Stiles stared in shock at Scott, easily for his stupidity and not at all for any sort of correct assumptions, Scott grabbed the car keys to the jeep from Stiles' pocket.

"Well, I'll take your car home, Stiles. Have fun on your ride home with Derek!"

Stiles blinked. "Wait! Holy fuck, Scott, get the hell out of my darling jeep! Scott!" Stiles continued yelling at the disappearing back of his jeep. He whirled around to Derek.

"Derek, you better take me to follow Scott. He doesn't know how to drive my jeep properly!"

Derek raised an eyebrow. "And why would I do that? I am not chasing after someone else's car without a good reason."

Stiles glared. "Because I don't want my jeep to crash and I will make your life miserable unless you do this for me." Derek glared right back at Stiles, who never broke eye contact. It felt like an eternity before Derek snorted and broke the staring contest.

"Fine, come on then." Stiles cheered and raced to the passenger door, Derek getting in and starting the engine to take off after Scott.

Now, maybe, just maybe, Scott and Lydia were right. Stiles was happier knowing Derek was right next to him, making it easier for them chat. It probably wasn't anything sappy, but if it meant that Stiles no longer had to wait hours before Derek would find time to text him back, well, what more could he ask for? The sourwolf was better company than a meddlesome banshee and clueless werewolf trying to set people up. Stiles gave a start as his phone vibrated.

[Scott]: Don't forget to tell Derek that next Tuesday at seven for our book club meeting! And remind him to bring Jane Austin!

"That bastard is texting and driving in my jeep!" Stiles screeched. "Floor it, leather lover, I got a werewolf to start skinning!"

Derek was grinning as he pressed down on the accelerator. Maybe, just maybe, Stiles thought, Derek was feeling the same way. But the feelings talk would have to wait; right now there was a certain future floor rug to catch.


End file.
